The Past Haunts
by Spunkar00
Summary: This is the history of how Cara became a Mord-Sith. Her recollections begin at the start of her journey to Aydindril after Richard asked her to recover his sword in the 5th book of the series The Soul of the Fire, and ends when she finally reaches the Wiz


Setting:-

This is the history of how Cara became a Mord-Sith. Her recollections begin at the start of her journey to Aydindril after Richard asked her to recover his sword in the 5th book of the series _The Soul of the Fire_, and ends when she finally reaches the Wizard's Keep.

**Disclaimer**: None of the characters, places, events that are mentioned in the Sword of Truth series herein belong to me. They all belong to Terry Goodkind. Some of the sentences mentioned in the book are lifted into this story too, to make sure that the real essence of the series do not get lost. 

**Spunkar00**: Enjoy reading guys, this is my first attempt in Fan fiction. All comments are welcome. =)     

**Prologue **

"That will be all General Reibisch. I will take my leave now." 

Her voice was uncouth and cold, chilly as the winter gale and as potent as it was deadly. Her red, skintight leather seemed even an angrier shade under the harsh glare of the campfires, matching the scowl on her face, which effectively parted the throng of soldiers that gathered around to witness the commotion.

A big man hurried behind her, weather-beaten face flustered and curly red hair tousled by his stride. He wore a double chain mail that swathed his massive girth above a leather-trimmed vest. Incised on the breast plate at the center of his chest was an ornate letter 'R', for the House of Rahl, and beneath that, two crossed swords. A red cape flowed from his broad shoulders to the back of his heels that were wrapped in black boots, speckled with dust, signifying his rank and authority. A broad sword hung from a scabbard magnificently done in D'Haran fashion, bearing the emblem of the highest honor ever to be earned in the military – the General.

"Thank you then, er… Mistress Cara. May I at least provide you with any rations? Maybe a blanket?" This man had fought countless, and he knew how to defend himself against a battalion on knights, but the presence of a single Mord-Sith was enough to keep him on the tip of his heels and sweating underneath his attire.

Cara continued towards the stables, with nary a pause in her cocksure stride. 

"There will be no such need General. I will be traveling hard and fast. I suggest you dispatch your troops as soon as they are ready. Lord Rahl will be without protection until then. I am sure you would not want to execute such an egregious mistake." She deliberately 'forgot' to mention that the Baka Tau Mana has taken Cara's place in protecting the Lord Rahl for the time being. 

"But of course." His reply sounded incredulous, as if he couldn't believe that it was asked. He obviously has not noticed the caustic tone in her voice.

The whole procession came to a startling halt when Cara suddenly stopped before her mare, in between was a hand offering assistance in mounting the roan. 

"Captain?" Cara questioned laconically, surprised at the intrepid aid, though her eyes expressed much more - amusement. She searched the man's eyes for a moment, then observed in a voice that was dangerously sweet and smooth.

"Captain Meiffert is it?" She recognized him from his big stature, short, cropped blond hair and arresting blue eyes like all pure blooded D'Harans. He is the man that is to lead the escort party to Lord Rahl, hand picked by Cara herself. 

The man only nodded mutely. 

"I can mount my horse unaided, thank you." Stepping past the withdrawing hand, she positioned her right leg on the stirrups, then deftly swung the left over to the other end. Placing her hand on the reins, she turned her back for the first time to see an embarrassed Captain Meiffert beside the General, who was smiling wryly, while trying to conceal it by wiping his gauntlet across his face.

"I bade you good speed Mistress Cara. May the good spirits be with you." The General smiled, his green-gray eyes crinkling with earnest sincerity while emphasizing on the white scar that extended from his left temple to his jaw. Cara thought it was quite an exquisite looking one. 

Nodding silently, the Mord-Sith gathered up the reins, and sped out of the encampment, into the night. She half-expected to hear a unison sigh of relief. She didn't. Within minutes, no sound except the chirping of the crickets and the occasional call of the wolves could be heard. She almost smiled as her mare began to pick up speed, galloping steadily towards Aydindril. She knew very well how General Reibisch and the rest of the officers were glad to be finally rid of her. The presence of a Mord-sith is almost, always never welcomed.

She could still remember the mortified look on the sentry's face as she entered like a deadly flame, clad in red, striding towards the General's tent as if she owned the place and everyone else scurried away from her path. She could practically hear the poor men's hearts drumming in their chest. They were not cowards, Cara knew. They would battle an enemy willingly, but the cleverer ones would know better than to obstruct or delay a Mord-Sith who looked like she has gone without sleep for a week.

Nonchalantly, she flicked her Agiel into her wrist, gripping it tightly around those armored fingers. A look of profound anguish ghosted across her face as she stared down at the leather cord that no longer responded. No Mord-Sith would ever show a vestige of pain when they used their Agiel, even when it brought immerse pain to themselves when they draw on it. But this time it was different. It was the cessation of such pain that caused her such angst, the emptiness that she felt from the weapon in her hand, and the realization that she was hapless against the enemy that made her feel this anguish.

She looked out into the dark plains behind him, and realized that for the second time in her life, she could no longer sense where her Lord was. Nothing. Not a scintilla of the recognition.

It made her want to weep. And a Mord-Sith never cries.

Mord-Sith was the deadliest enemy of the gifted. Once the gifted made the fatal mistake of unleashing their power against them, their magic belonged to them, and the Mord-Sith turns it against them. The wrecking, spasm-like pain caused by the Agiel on their victims could bring them to the brink of passing, but never enough to kill them. This made the Mord-Sith such proficient torturers as they are. The soldier's fear they felt for Cara was not unfounded for. Most of the men in the camp have seen a Mord-Sith displaying her skills, and have heard the screams and wails of their captives. They were always sincere and heart-felt. 

She only knew too well.


End file.
